"I always said she'd do it," cried Barker, who now took upon
himself the credit of Polly's triumph.
And what a triumph it was!
Polly danced as serenely on Bingo's back as she might have done
on the "concert boards." She swayed gracefully with the music.
Her tiny sandals twinkled as she stood first upon one foot and
then upon the other.
Uncle Toby forgot to use many of his tricks that night; and Jim
left the loading of the wagons to take care of itself, while he
hovered near the entrance, anxious and breathless. The
performers crowded around the girl with outstretched hands and
congratulations, as she came out of the ring to cheers and
applause.
But Big Jim stood apart. He was thinking of the buttons that his
clumsy fingers used to force into the stiff, starchy holes too
small for them and of the pigtails so stubborn at the ends; and
Toby was remembering the little shoes that had once needed to be
laced in the cold, dark mornings, and the strings that were
always snapping.
Something had gone.
They were not philosophers to reason like Emerson, that for
everything we lose we gain something; they were simple souls,
these two, they could only feel.
Chapter II
WHILE Polly sat in the dressing tent, listening indifferently to
the chatter about the "Leap of Death" girl, Jim waited in the lot
outside, opening and shutting a small, leather bag which he had
bought for her that day.
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